Sentiment
by BrittFaceNess
Summary: a fluffy Valentine's Day fic! contains johnlock


**A/N: I started writing this yesterday, but being sucked into my TV, I failed at getting it up on time. **

**So here's a fluffy Johnlock Valentine's Day fic for you lovely readers!**

**Enjoy!**

**Review please!**

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><p>It had all started that Tuesday morning.<p>

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><p><strong>9:23 AM<strong>

John stepped out of the shower, steam billowing around him as he toweled himself dry. The case last night had worn the two out, stripping them of any desire to do anything but sleep (well, as it had turned out – the only one who had wanted to actually sleep was John of course). John had gone to bed still caked in dirt and dried blood (some of it belonging to him, most of it not though). Now he felt refreshed and well-rested. And also in dire need of a nice, hot cuppa.

Padding down the stairs, John expected to find the consulting detective curled up on the couch in deep thought but instead was met with a completely empty flat.

Entering the kitchen, the doctor was not ready for the sight that was beheld.

It was _clean._

Well, John rephrased in his head, cleaner than what it normally was. There were no dishes in the sink, the counters shined, and the table held organized science equipment and was experiment-free.

Had Mrs. Hudson came in and tidied up?

No. She clearly had stated many times that she was _not_ their housekeeper and never touched their things. So the only option left was Sherlock. Why would the consulting detective bother to do something so dull and unimportant?

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><p><strong>2:44 PM<strong>

The day proved to be a chilly one, as was the rest of February, but this one seemed to promise snow and cold winds. John was bundled in his usual jumper with a jacket overlaying it, hands shoved deep into the pockets. Unfortunately the coldness still managed to seep in through the layers.

Sherlock hovered over the still body splayed out before them, seeming indifferent to the winter weather as always. After all, his mind was elsewhere.

"Well? What have you got?" Lestrade commented, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if to warm himself up.

"Not much, really." The consulting detective murmured, then continued on to describe each and every detail he had discovered – which of course was quite a bit.

As they walked away from the detective inspector who was furiously scribbling away on a pad of paper, John attempted to burrow deeper into the coat.

"Cold?" A smile ghosted Sherlock's lips.

John laughed "Quite."

Suddenly warmth engulfed his neck, and shocked by the sudden change in temperature, John stopped in mid-stride. His hand flew to the soft fabric wrapped there. "Sher-"

"I wouldn't want my blogger to freeze to death, now would I?" the other man said with a smile, continuing to walk.

John's face flushed as he brought the scarf closer to his skin, Sherlock's scent now engulfing him.

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><p><strong>9:56 PM<strong>

The candle placed in the middle of the table flickered, the melted wax dripping slowly from the side.

John took a bite of his food, relishing the warmth it gave him. He and Sherlock had been parading around London all day, chasing down a man who they presumed was their murderer. It had turned out there were two murderers instead of one – male twins, to be exact.

Sherlock sat across from him, silent, but mind whirring - most likely from the events just an hour before.

"Aren't you hungry, Sherlock?" John asked as he shoved another forkful of pasta in his mouth.

The detective replied with a tight smile. "No thank you, John."

John laughed and shook his head. What was he going to do with this man who refused to ever eat or sleep, or in fact do anything humane?

After finishing, John reached to take the receipt only to have it snatched away by Sherlock. "I'll pay."

"Sherlock, I can-"

"I insist, John." Sherlock's smile reached his eyes and nearly flooded over with an unknown emotion.

"Erm…" John cleared his throat. "Okay. Sure. Thank you."

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><p><strong>10:21 PM<strong>

"Sherlock. What is this?"

The consulting detective sighed a little. "That is an idiotic question, John. You obviously know the object that is in front of you."

"Yes, right. But…I don't understand." John picked up the teacup and peered closely at it.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's not _poisoned_."

"Then what's wrong with it?"

"Nothing of the sort!"

John met Sherlock's gaze and he raised a brow. Sherlock had made him tea without being asked or told to. Usually the doctor was the one to make tea for the two of them. Noticing the slight frown lines deepening by Sherlock's mouth, John took an obligatory sip. He nodded. "Good. It's good."

The detective smiled triumphantly, like he had just caught a serial killer or such. Was he ill?

"Sherlock, you've been acting quite strange today." He set the cup back in its saucer.

For once, his flat mate looked at a loss for words and avoided any eye contact whatsoever. "I'm not sure I understand what you are speaking of. I'm my usual self, aren't I?"

"No, actually. Quite the opposite, Sherlock. You've been…nicer."

Sherlock pursed his full lips. A full minute of silence ticked by and John wondered if the detective had given up on the conversation.

As John continued to stare at his best friend, he thought about the events that had occurred today. The kitchen being cleaned, the simple gesture of being lent the scarf, dinner being paid for, and a cuppa served to him out of the blue. Sherlock was being nicer, that was for sure. But why? The doctor tilted his head to the side and studied the man. Sherlock hadn't done anything drastic lately that was in need for continuous apologizing, so that was ruled out immediately.

"John, I'm fascinated with your deducing skills," Sherlock began in a huff, "but please stop staring at me like that."

"Like what?" A smile graced John's lips. "You do it to me all the time."

"Not important." The detective waved his hand as if to brush off the comment. "You wanted to know why I was being so kind to you today, correct? Do you not realize what day it is?"

"It's…Tuesday." John mumbled in confusion.

A groan of frustration was received from Sherlock. "John, it's _Valentine's Day_."

The previous silence met them again but this time with a little touch of awkwardness. John's mouth formed the word 'oh'. He now remembered seeing all of the hearts and such at the grocery store, but had forgotten that this day actually happened to be _that_ day.

John's confusion grew as he processed Sherlock's words. Sherlock was being nice to him. On Valentine's Day. "Erm…"

A faint blush crept up his neck as he met the pale eyes. Now he was the one at loss for words. How was he supposed to respond to that? Was this a confession? No, Sherlock did not have feelings for him like that. Or did he? His heart fluttered at that thought.

The detective cleared his throat loudly. "From what I know, Valentine's Day is a day to show affection to the ones you care for. I'm not…I'm not really experienced in that area, but I tried my hardest. I hope you aren't angered."

"Angered?" John said with a laugh, and Sherlock's eyebrows drew together in confusion. The doctor stood up, making his way towards the other. "H-Hardly. I just wish I had known…I would have…done something in return."

Sherlock blushed at that moment, causing John's stomach to knot up. He always knew he had feelings for the man that stood in front of him – but never really took the time to consider and analyze them. Sherlock had said from the beginning that he was married to his work – why pursue something that was lost in the first place? But now, staring at the amazing detective, John knew he had fallen in love.

John reached up and his fingers grazed Sherlock's cheekbones. "Thank you." He mumbled.

The doctor did not expect the sudden pressure on his lips, or a hand slipping to the back of his head, and definitely not the words escaping the other pair of lips in a hushed whisper. "Happy Valentine's Day, John."

John giggled at that. "Look who is being sentiment now."

"Oh, shut up."


End file.
